i 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


ROBERT  ERNEST  COWAN 


THE  RAWHIDE  RAILROAD 
By  George  Estes 

Author  of  the  "The  Lawyer's  Memory" 
"The  Brand  of  Zor" 


Copyright 

1916 
By    George    Estes 


Publishing     House 

of    the 

Clackauias    County    News 
Canby,     Oregon 


JNO.    E.    COWGILL 


VVA  £"7 


CONTENTS 

Foreword Page  10 

Chapter  i  Walla  Walla "  1 1 

Chapter  II  The  Railroad  Builder 

Chapter  III  The  Pioneer  Bank 

Chapter  IV  The  Columbia  River 

Chapter  V  The  Chief  Engineer 

Chapter  VI  The  Indian  Messengers .  . . 

Chapter  VII  The  Train  Dispatcher 

Chapter  VIII  Destruction  of  the  Railroad 


276435 


14 

16 
18 
29 

36 

42 

49 


TO  JOHN  E.  COWGILL 
Of  San  Francisco 

WHO,  as  Chief  of  the  Railroad  Teleghaph- 
ers  for  a  long  period  of  years  on  all  of  the  vast 
Southern  Pacific  properties  penetrating  eight 
of  the  largest  states  of  the  Union 

HAS  WON,  by  his  tireless  efforts,  his  re- 
sourcefulness and  his  fearless  personality 

PRICELESS  BLESSINGS,  for  more  than 
two  thousand  highly  skilled  and  faithful  rail- 
way employes, 

TO  HAVE  AND  TO  HOLD  to  them  and 
their  heirs  forever, 

This  book  is  affectionately  dedicated  by 

GEO.  ESTES, 
LL.B.  of  the  Oregon  Bar. 
Formerly  a  Railroad  Telegrapher. 

Portland,  Oregon,  1916. 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Wolves Cover  design 

John  E.  Cowgill Frontispiece 

The  Whitman  Massacre Page  II 

"The  Wall  of  Water."  (Walla  Walla)  ...      n 

The  bags  of  gold  weigh  heavy "     13 

His  cattle  fattened  on  a  thousand  hills.  "     15 

The  village  of  Portland "     16 

The  Pioneer  Bank "     17 

Cataracts  along  the  Columbia  river  ...  "     18 

The  painted  cedar  canoe    "     19 

Seekolicks.  (Breeches) "    29 

Skookum  Chickamin , "     23 

Civilization "     25 

Golden  Grain "     26 

Contributory  negligence "     31 

The  Indian  Messengers "     36 

The  Black  Memaloose "     38 

A  thousand  cut-throats  with  silk  hats. . .  "40 

The  bucking  cayuse   "    42 

The  train  dispatcher "    45 

The  cowcatcher "    47 

The  safety  valve  lets  go "    49 

Rawhide "     CQ 

A  shadow  from  the  forest "     52 

The  wolves  are  coming "     52 

Railroad — Him  gonum  hell "    45 


THE  RAWHIDE  RAILROAD 
FOREWORD 

Ey  George  Estes,  Portland,  Oregon 

This  is  a  story  of  a  remarkable  steam  rail- 
road actually  constructed  and  successfully  opera- 
ted in  the  beautiful  Walla  Walla  Valley  many 
years  ago,  on  which  rawhide,  overlaying  wooden 
beams,  was  used  in  place  of  iron  or  steel  rails. 
This  unique  road,  later  modernized,  is  now  oper- 
ated as  part  of  a  large  railway.  It  is  doubtful, 
however,  if  through  the  roll  of  years,  the  chang- 
ing managements  of  the  big  line  have  preserved 
either  record  or  recollection  of  the  once  famous 
rawhide  railroad,  which  was  the  germ  of  the  pres- 
ent transportation  system. 

More  than  a  quarter  century  ago,  while  in 
railroad  service,  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  come 
in  contact  with  an  old  Irish  section  foreman,  long 
since  dead,  who  had  been  actually  employed  on 
the  singular  railroad.  The  outlines  of  the  narra- 
tive were  extracted  from  him  disjointedly  and  at 
different  times,  but  the  wealth  of  detail  and  cir- 
cumstantial accuracy  leaves  no  doubt  of  the  truth 
of  the  story  as  a  whole. 

After  the  catastrophe,  which  closes  the  last 
chapter,  the  railroad  was  operated  successfully 
for  many  years  with  iron  plates  fastened  on  top 
of  the  wooden  rails. 

GEO.  ESTES. 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 


CHAPTER  I 
WALLA  WALLA 

Because  of  the  massacre  of  a  missionary  and 
all  his  family  a  frowning  fort  had  been  establish- 
ed, manned  with  soldiers  and  armed  with  can- 
non, in  the  center  of  a  great  empire  of  the  richest 
land  on  earth. 

In  time  a  village  grew  up  around  the  fort. 
They  named  it  Walla  Walla  after  the  Indian's 
name  for  the  valley  empire  in  which  the  fort  and 
village  were  located.  The  Indians'  traditions 
told  that  in  the  beginning  a  wall  of  water  ex- 
tended high  above  the  whole  great  valley  and 
in  after  ages  sawed  a  way  out  through  the  rim 
and  poured  down  the  deep  gorge  of  the  Colum- 
bia to  the  sea. 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

When  the  water  gushed  out  through  the 
break  in  the  western  wall,  the  undulating  bottom 
land  of  fertile  silt  was  laid  bare.  In  this  rich  soil 
are  embedded  smooth  cobblestones,  rounded  by 
the  ceaseless  roll  of  waters,  which  swept  them 
back  and  forth  on  the  bottom  of  the  ancient  sea 
for  countless  ages — silent  but  unimpeachable  wit- 
nesses to  the  truth  of  the  Indian  legend. 

An  old  Indian  trail,  still  clearly  traced, 
starts  at  the  fort,  marks  its  winding  thread  across 
the  shallow  depressions,  creases  the  gentlr  slopes 
and  deeply  scars  the  low  ridges  and,  stretching 
away  to  the  northeast,  leads  to  the  gold-bearing 
country  beyond. 

Far  to  the  southeast  hangs  a  long,  dark, 
cloud  of  beautiful  indigo,  swinging  low  in  the 
sky.  It  hung  there  just  the  same  way  before  they 
built  the  village;  even  before  the  fort  was  con- 
structed, and  a  thousand  ages  before  the  cruel 
massacre  which  caused  its  building.  One  end  of 
the  blue  starts  at  the  sunrise  and  the  other  end 
hangs  over  the  western  rim  of  the  world. 
That  is  the  Blue  Mountain  range. 

Its  blue  is  different  from  any  other  blue.  Its 
corrugated  azure  chain  is  linked  through  the  cen- 

—12— 


THE      RAWHIDE      RAILROAD 

ter  of  the  Wenaha  National  forest.  It  is  the 
most  striking  feature  of  the  great  empire,  over 
whose  approach  from  the  south  and  east  it  stands 
guard,  even  as  the  winding  stream  of  Snake  River 
protects  the  north,  and  the  rolling  waters  of  the 
mighty  Columbia  watch  the  west. 

Under  the  shadow  of  the  fort  the  village 
grew  and  the  broad  valley  prospered.  The  long 
trails  of  the  men  who  brought  rich  peltries  and 
glistening  gold  led  to  the  village  out  of  the  land 
of  the  sunrise,  and  from  the  Salmon  River  coun- 
try and  from  the  Seven  Devils  mines,  which  lay 
beyond  the  low  cloud  of  indigo.  The  grizzled 
trappers  and  bearded  miners  traded  the  peltries 
and  yellow  pebbles  and  golden  sands  for  flour, 
bacon  and  plug  tobacco  and  for  gold  pans  and 
quicksilver  at  the  stores  in  the  village. 

The  trails  that  led  from  the  mines  to  the 
village  were  many  and  smoothly  worn,  and  the 
gold  dust  that  came  over  them  weighed  heavy  in 
the  buckskin  bags.  Because  of  this  there  was  a 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

big  trail  that  came  to  the  village  from  the  other 
way,  from  the  great  river  that  rolled  along  in  the 
sunset  down  in  the  west — for  there  is  always  a 
broad  road  to  the  place  where  the  bags  of  gold 
weigh  heavy. 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  RAILROAD  BUILDER 

Pioneer  days  in  western  lands  breed  strange 
people  and  produce  remarkable  characters. 
Society  is  unorganized  and  conditions  are  primi- 
tive. The  law  does  not,  for  a  time,  acquire  the 
steady  control  over  men,  which  is  necessary  to 
prevent  crimes  against  persons  and  property. 

Such  times  and  places  develop  strong  per- 
sonalities, many  of  whom  are  questionable,  if 
not  wholly  bad.  But  almost  invariably  some  one 
man  climbs  to  the  top  and  ultimately  stands  as 
far  above  the  general  run  of  the  community  as 
the  rugged  crown  of  Hood's  mighty  mountain 
towers  above  the  western  world. 

In  the  broad  empire  of  Walla  Walla  these 
times  brought  out  their  strong  man.  He  was 
rough  with  that  ruggedness  that  marks  the  man 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

who  stalks  in  the  open  in  times  of  danger  and 
knows  that  he  can  protect  himself  and  his  from 
enemies  coming  four  ways  at  once.  The  only 
name  ever  given  him  by  the  hardy  settlers  was 
Doc  Baker.  His  many  friends  loved  him  by  that 
name.  The  disappointed  sharpers,  who  had  tried 
fco  bunco  him  and  failed,  hated  him  by  the  i>«*rne 
name,  but  he  commanded  the  respect  of  friends 
and  enemies  alike.  Managed  with  rare  judgment 
his  goods  multiplied.  He  acquired  thousands  of 
rolling  acres  of  the  rich  silt  lands  of  the  Walla 
Walla.  His  cattle  fattened  on  the  tall  grasses 
growing  in  green  profusion  on  a  thousand  hills. 


In  August  his  wheatfields  waved  goldenbronze 
in  a  thousand  gentle  valleys.  He  owned  pasture 
lands,  and  timber  lands,  and  orchard  lands  and 
meadow  lands. 

But  this  was  by  no  means  all  of  the  wealth 
of  Doc  Baker. 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  PIONEER  BANK 

Far — and  again  far — down  in  the  west  to- 
ward the  sunset,  past  the  long  stretches  of  tree- 
less lands,  around  roaring  rapids  in  the  great 
river  where  sat  the  Indian  village  of  Wish-ram, 
through  a  walled  stone  gorge,  sawed  down  a 
mile  through  a  mountain  range — is  a  place  where 
another  great  river,  the  Willamette,  comes  into 
the  Columbia  from  the  south.  Here  a  small  vil- 
lage had  started,  composed  mostly  of  log  cabins 
with  the  stumps  still  standing  in  the  streets. 
They  named  it  Portland  because  the  two  men 
who  owned  the  place  tossed  up  a  coin  (which 
they  had  brought  with  them  around  the  Horn) 
and  the  man  who  came  from  Maine  won  twice 
in  the  toss-up  against  the  man  who  came  from 
Boston. 


—if— 


THE      RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

In  this  village  there  was  one  particular  log 
cabin  which  people  called  a  "Bank."  It  had  been 
started  by  a  young  man  a  few  years  before,  and 
his  careful  attention  to  the  business  had  caused 
the  little  community  to  look  upon  his  log  cabin 
bank  much  the  same  as  we  now  regard  the 
United  States  Treasury.  They  were  justly  proud 
of  the  bank,  because  it  was  the  only  one  between 
the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  sea,  up  and  down 
the  long  coast  line  from  the  frozen  fields  of  the 
polar  bear  to  the  sun-scorched  shores  of  Panama, 
and  it  had  been  started  before  any  National  Bank 
in  the  United  States  came  into  existence.  Its 
capital  was  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  Men 
knew  what  that  meant  because  they  had  seen 
minted  dollars  before  they  left  home  on  their 
journey  into  the  sunset,  around  the  Horn.  Its 
interest  rate  was  two  per  cent  a  month;  a  reason- 
able charge  to  men  who  could  have  paid  ten 
times  that  and  still  have  made  money. 

On  the  books  of  the  bank  was  an  account  in 
the  name  of  Doc  Baker,  which  could  have  had 
many  checks  of  five  figures  drawn  against  it  and 
the  account  would  still  have  contained  five  fig- 
ures. And  yet  Doc  Baker  had  never  put  in  the 


—17—- 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

bank  a  dollar  of  money  bearing  the  imprint  of 
the  United  States.  His  deposits  had  been  com- 
posed of  yellow  "dust"  from  beyond  the  Blue 
Mountains  and  minted  slugs  of  gold  bearing  the 
design  of  a  beaver  and  the  legend  5D  or  icD, 
which  passed  for  money  in  the  Oregon  Country. 
But  the  certificates  given  by  Ladd's  Bank  for 
these  deposits  called  for  money  of  the  United 
States  and  they  were  accepted  by  all  men,  then  as 
now  (half  a  centurv  later),  at  their  face  in  the 
Oregon  Country,  or  for  that  matter  in  any  other 
land  where  men  had  need  of  money. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  COLUMBIA  RIVER 

The  greatness  of  the  Columbia  River  is  but 
dimly  realized.  Including  its  tributaries,  it  is 
navigable  for  many  thousand  miles  in  the  United 
States,  and  what  can  be  said  of  no  other  river, 
for  thousands  of  miles  in  foreign  lands,  before 
its  clear  waters  wash  our  native  soil.  The  gorge 
of  the  Columbia,  which  is  the  mile  deep  crevice 
it  has  cut  for  a  roadway  a  hundred  miles  through 

-18— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

the  Cascade  range,  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
world.  The  waterfalls  of  immense  height  and 
fantastic  form,  which  leap  over  the  towering 
escarpments  and  plunge  downward  to  the  river 
below  as  if  dropped  from  the  clouds,  have  no 
parallel  in  other  lands. 

At  Wallula,  the  nearest  point  on  the  river 
to  Walla  Walla,  one  bright  spring  day  a  painted 


cedar  canoe,  with  high  upturned  prow,  rested 
partly  on  the  yellow  sands  of  the  shore  and  part- 
ly on  the  heaving  surface  of  the  river.  It  had 
been  colored  jet  black  with  stain  made  from  iron 
float  and  juice  of  the  white  oak  apples  and  then 
striped  in  odd  figures  of  Indian  design,  in  red 
ochre  mined  from  deep  crevices  in  the  mountains, 
and  brilliant  green  made  from  the  juice  of  the 
nettle  stalk.  Seated  in  the  canoe,  eating  jerked 
venison,  were  two  Klickitat  Indians,  one  tall  and 
thin,  the  other  short  and  pudgy.  They  were  Doc 
Baker's  boatmen,  awaiting  his  arrival  over  the 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

trail  from  Walla  Walla,  to  take  him  down  the 
river  to  the  village  of  Portland. 

These  two  Indians  were  odd  characters. 
Their  names  were  Sapolil  and  Seekolicks,  which 
showed  both  the  practical  and  sentimental  side 
of  the  Indian.  Sapolil  being  inclined  to  take  on 
flesh  was  himself  the  logical  reason  for  the  name 
he  bore.  His  full  name  was  Marmora  Sapolil, 
which  means  "Indian's  bread,"  i.  e.,  cakes  made 
from  the  native  plant  of  that  name,  which  grows 
\vild  in  great  profusion  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  Be- 
ing a  necessity  of  life,  the  practical  nature  of  Sa- 
polil's  name  is  at  once  apparent. 

Seekolicks  had  come  by  his  title  rather  dif- 
ferently, showing  the  sentimental  side  of  the 
Indian.  His  name  in  the  Chinook  tongue  means 
"breeches."  At  that  time  breeches  were  merely 
a  luxury  among  the  Klickitats  and  in  fact  were 
considered  too  advanced  to  be  in  prevailing  style 
along  the  Columbia.  However,  Seekolicks  was 
generally  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  best  dressers 
that  ever  came  down  the  river,  and  his  resplend- 
ent breeches  were  the  cause  of  many  admiring 
glances  from  the  coy  maidens  of  Wish-ram,  the 
village  at  the  great  rapids,  and  in  very  truth  his 

—20— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

raiment  was  of  the  gorgeous  colors  of  the  sun- 
set, albeit  he  confined  himself  entirely  to 
breeches,  as  the  fashion  of  wearing  shirts  and 
other  garments  had  not  yet  come  in.  It  might 
be  said  that  the  breeches  bore  a  peculiar  resem- 
blance to  a  red  flannel  shirt.  In  fact,  it  had  been 
whispered  up  and  down  the  river  that  Seekolicks 
had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  find  an  old  red  shirt, 
discarded  by  some  opulent  miner,  and  by  invert- 
ing it  had  used  the  arms  for  legs,  fastening  the 
tail  up  around  his  waist  with  a  thong  of  deer 
sinew.  Thus  clad,  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  had 
nothing  on  Seekolicks. 

At  this  point  the  story  teller,  who  writes 
by  rule,  will  say  that  too  much  attention  is  being 
devoted  to  Seekolick's  breeches.  He  will  wag 
his  head  sententiously  and  remark  that  nothing 
should  be  put  into  the  story  that  does  not  ad- 
vance the  plot  according  to  the  patented  method 
of  writing  short  stories.  But  our  story  is  not 
being  written  according  to  the  patent,  but  ac- 
cording to  the  facts  and  besides  upon  Seekolicks' 
pants  hangs  the  fate  of  a  great  empire,  as  we 
shall  see.  But  for  the  overwhelming  desires  and 
passions  of  the  savage  tribes,  inflamed  to  the 

—21— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

burning  heat  by  these  bright  pants,  the  Rawhide 
Railroad  might  never  have  existed  and  the  Pacif- 
ic Northwest  might  yet  remain  a  wilderness. 

In  time  Doc  Baker  arrived  at  the  river, 
mounted  on  his  favorite  mule  and  accompanied 
by  two  horsemen  carrying  heavy  buckskin  bags, 
The  bags  were  carefully  deposited  in  the  bottom 
of  the  painted  canoe  and  the  two  horsemen  lead- 
ing Doc  Baker's  mule  galloped  away  ever  the 
trail  back  to  Walla  Walla. 

The  Indian  boatmen  shoved  the  canoe  off 
shore  and  with  Doc  Baker  seated  in  the  center, 
shot  swiftly  down  the  swirling  stream.  The 
wonders  of  the  mighty  river  rapidly  sped  by  on 
either  hand,  but  the  solitary  passenger  in  the 
graceful  canoe  scarcely  heeded  them,  being  en- 
grossed in  weighty  plans  for  the  future.  Rapidly 
the  miles  of  water  lengthened  behind  them  as 
as  they  stopped  only  to  cook  and  prepare  food 
at  favorable  points  along  the  shore,  and  for  a 
short  period  for  rest  and  sleep.  On  the  fourth 
day  they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  another  large 
river,  the  Willamette  and,  turning  up  this  wide 
stream,  the  canoe  soon  plowed  its  nose  into  the 
sandy  shore  opposite  the  village  of  Portland. 


SKOOKUM  CHICKIMIN 


T HE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 


BANK  RULES 

10  Coon  Skins — I   Deer  hide. 

10  Deer  Hides — I  Mink  Peltry. 

10  Mink  Peltries — I  Beaver  Pelt. 

3  Beaver  Pelts — I  oz.  Gold  Dust. 

Skunk  skins  are  not  liquid  assets  and  must 
not  be  brought  into  the  bank. 

Promissory  notes  must  be  written  on  buck- 
skin.* 

Customers  drawing  on  each  other  in  the 
bank  must  step  outside  before  shooting.  This 
rule  has  got  to  be  lived  up  to. 

*In  the  early  days  of  the  Oregon  country  a 
promissory  note  written  on  buckskin  was  not  af- 
fected by  the  statute  of  limitations  and  never 
ran  out. 


—24— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

Here  Doc  Baker  landed  and  beckoning  the  In- 
dians to  follow  with  the  buckskin  bags,  went  up 
the  trail  that  led  to  Ladd's  bank.  They  follow- 
ed in  single  file  and  dumped  their  burden  on  the 
bank's  counter,  composed  of  half  a  fir  log  with 
the  flat  side  up.  As  they  deposited  their  heavy 
load  Sapolil  muttered  in  gutteral  tones  some- 
thing that  sounded  like  "Skookum  chickimin," 
which  indicated  that  the  wily  Indian  was  assimi- 
lating the  ways  of  his  white  brother.  He  had 
discovered  the  two  things  nearest  the  white 
man's  heart  and  person:  money  and  breeches. 
"Skookum  chickamin"  translated  both  literally  — 
and  freely  means  "Big  money"  and  so  the  un- 
lettered savage  understood  "Big  money"  and 
was  beginning  to  learn  about  breeches.  It  need- 
ed only  firewater  to  complete  his  civilization.  Z?^"^ 

The  two  bags  weighed  seventy-eight  pounds 
Troy,  on  the  bank's  scales.  Doc  Baker  had 
not  come  down  the  river  to  bring  this  stuff  to 
the  bank.  He  brought  it  because  it  was  in  the 
way  at  home,  but  his  business  was  far  weightier 
than  that.  Mr.  Ladd  asked  him  to  wait  a  minute 
until  he  made  the  entry  in  his  books  "before  he 
forgot  it,"  and  then  they  would  have  a  smoke  and 

_25— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

talk  things  over.  Mr.  Ladd  put  down  the  number 
"15"  with  three  ciphers  to  the  right,  in  the  credit 
column  of  the  account  of  Doc  Baker  and  they 
were  then  ready  to  smoke. 

It  was  something  really  important  that  had 
brought  Doc  Baker  down  the  long  journey  from 
Walla  Walla  to  see  Mr.  Ladd.. 

Had  Mr.  Ladd  ever  heard  of  railroads? 

Yes,  he  had  heard  of  railroads. 

What  was  a  railroad  like? 

Mr.  Ladd  described  a  railroad. 

, .•»;  Doc  Baker  concluded  that  he  wanted  a  rail- 

^road  from  Walla  Walla  to  the  river,  so  that  the 
golden  grain  of  his  thousand  valleys  could  be 
conveyed  to  the  great  water-way. 

Could  Mr.  Ladd  get  him  two  locomotives? 

Yes,  Mr.  Ladd  could  send  a  letter  to  his 
banking  correspondent  in  New  York,  around  the 
Horn. 

There  was  no  other  way.  The  distance  to 
New  York  and  back  that  way  was  near  enough 
twenty  thousand  miles.  The  New  York  house, 
on  the  order  of  Mr.  Ladd,  would  buy  two  locomo- 
tives, whatever  their  cost  might  be,  ship  them 
back  around  the  Horn  and  bill  the  expense  to  the 

^26— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

bank,  which  in  turn  would  charge  the  account 
of  Doc  Baker.  It  was  all  so  simple  and  easy. 
The  letter  would  go  to  New  York  and  the  loco- 
motives be  shipped  back  and  reach  Portland  in 
two  years  from  that  time,  and  they  would  then 
be  started  up  the  river  for  Wallula. 

Mr.  Ladd  wanted  to  know  what  Doc  Baker 
would  do  about  the  iron  rails  for  his  road? 

Do?  He  would  put  down  wooden  rails,  big 
and  strong,  and  even  if  they  did  wear  out  fast 
they  could  be  cheaply  replaced. 

Mr.  Ladd's  next  question  was  as  to  a  civil 
engineer  to  survey,  construct  and  maintain  the 
roadway,  and  a  train  dispatcher  to  move  trains 
and  conduct  transportation. 

Doc  Baker  was  stumped  for  a  few  moments 
— but  not  long.  He  remembered  that  he  had  met 
and  overcome  every  difficulty  besetting  him  in 
life  so  far.  He  would  provide  a  civil  engineer 
who  could  survey  and  construct  the  roadway. 

How  long  would  it  take  to  survey  the  road 
from  Walla  Walla  to  Wallula? 

Mr.  Ladd  thought  it  would  require  about 
six  months.  Preliminary  surveys  must  be  run 
Levels  must  be  ascertained,  meander  lines  draft- 

—27— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

ed,  cross-sectioning  completed,  grade  stakes  set. 
This  was  all  a  little  puzzling  to  Doc  Baker,  but 
the  train  dispatcher  was  more  so.  However,  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  build  and  operate  a 
railroad  from  Walla  Walla  to  the  river,  and  that 
point  once  settled,  all  else  would  follow. 

His  next  question  caused  young  Ladd  to 
lose  the  grip  on  his  clay  pipe  and  it  tumbled 
down  and  crashed  to  fragments  on  the  split 
puncheon  floor  of  the  log  cabin  bank. 

"Could  any  plug  hats  be  had  in  Portland?" 
This  was  so  absurd  that  Mr.  Ladd  roared  with 
laughter  and  then  answered  that  the  plug  hat  did 
not  thrive  west  of  the  Missouri  river,  owing  to 
lack  of  demand  and  the  manifest  danger  to  the 
wearer  on  account  of  the  irresistible  impulse 
which  would  be  sure  to  possess  the  first  miner 
loaded  with  "yellow  jacket  juice"  to  shoot  a  hole 
through  it. 

However,  Doc  Baker  told  Mr.  Ladd  that  he 
thought  some  plug  hats  might  be  needed  in  con- 
nection with  the  railroad. 

And  so  it  fell  out  that  a  letter  was  started 
by  the  first  sailing  vessel  leaving  Portland  for 
New  York,  around  the  Horn,  giving  the  New 

—28— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

York  correspondent  bank  full  power  to  purchase 
two  narrow  guage  locomotives,  one  hundred 
pairs  of  car  wheels  and  one  thousand  plug  hats 
and  ship  them  back  to  Ladd's  bank. 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CHIEF  ENGINEER. 

Doc  Baker  went  back  up  the  river  in  the 
painted  canoe,  paddled  by  the  same  two  Indians, 
Sapolil  and  Seekolicks. 

He  told  the  Indians  what  he  had  done. 
They  had  great  faith  in  him,  but  thought  that 
maybe  he  and  Mr.  Ladd  might  have  had  too 
much  firewater  together.  Sometimes  the  white 
man  did  that  way,  and  when  he  did,  he  couldn't 
talk  sense  for  a  time.  Possibly  Doc  Baker  had 
done  as  others  did.  The  two  Indians  talked  it 
over  and  shook  their  heads.  They  hoped  that  it 
might  be  that  way  and  that  the  Devil'?  wagon 
that  he  had  told  them  about,  that  ate  up  wood 
and  shot  smoke  and  fire  out  of  its  head  was  not 
a  real  thing  but  only  fire-water  talk,  which  the 
sagacious  Indians  had  long  since  discovered  did 
not  last. 

—29— 


THE      RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

As  soon  as  Doc  Baker  arrived  home  he  be- 
gan planning  the  construction  of  the  railroad. 
Air.  Ladd  had  said  the  first  requisite  was  a  chief 
engineer  to  survey  the  line  and  then  to  build  and 
keep  it  up  afterwards.  Doc  Baker  debated  this 
matter  in  his  mind  for  sometime  and  finally  de- 
cided on  Bill  Green.  Bill  had  many  qualifica- 
tions for  the  position.  He  could  drive  a  thorough- 
brace  stage  coach,  loaded  with  passengers  and 
gold-dust  and  pulled  by  six  horses,  closer  to  the 
edge  of  a  precipice,  without  going  over,  than  .any 
other  man  in  the  country.  This  showed  ability 
to  calculate  distances  accurately.  With  a  Colt's 
revolver  he  had  winged  a  horsethief  in  full  flight 
on  a  cayuse  pony  when  he  was  just  disappearing 
below  a  ridge,  showing  ability  to  sight  straight, 
which  Mr.  Ladd  said  was  a  qualification  requir- 
ed of  a  civil  engineer.  He  could  drive  twenty 
yoke  of  oxen  so  that  all  would  pull  evenly  on  the 
load,  showing  generalship  and  the  power  to  com- 
mand. Mr.  Ladd  also  said  that  a  chief  en- 
gineer should  have  some  knowledge  of  law, 
on  account  of  right-of-way  disputes.  Bill  had 
once  been  foreman  on  an  impromptu  jury  for  a 
justice  of  the  peace  acting  as  coroner  and  had 

—30— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 


sat  on  the  remains  of  a  bully  who  had  terrorized 
the  country,  but  who  had  at  last  been  killed  by  a 
quiet  citizen  with  whom  the  bully  had  picked  a 
quarrel — the  quiet  citizen  having  pulled  quicker 
than  the  bully.  The  verdict  of  the  jury  voiced  by 
Bill  Green,  was  that  the  bully  had  died  from  con- 
tributory negligence,  which  gave  great  satis- 
faction to  the  community,  and  had  at  once  proven 
Bill  a  man  of  tact  as  well  as  deeply  learned  in  the 
law. 

So  resourceful  a  man  could  undoubtedly 
survey  and  build  a  railroad.  He  was  therefore 
appointed  chief  engineer  and  notified  that  he  was 
to  employ  as  many  men  as  required  and  obtain 
all  the  material  needed,  and  to  proceed  at  once 
to  survey  and  locate  the  road  from  Walla  Walla 
to  Wallula,  and  that  the  work  of  surveying  must 
be  entirely  finished  in  six  months,  the  time  set  by 
Mr.  Ladd. 

The  first  move  of  the  chief  engineer  showed 
the  man  of  tact.  He  had  never  seen  a  railroad, 
nor,  for  that  matter,  had  he  ever  heard  of  a  trans- 
it or  a  level.  Books  of  logarithms  and  traverse 
tables  were  as  uncommon  to  him  as  the  binomial 
theorem  to  hungry  wolves  in  the  Blue  Mountains. 


—31— 


THE      RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

Ground-sluicing  in  the  Salmon  River  mines 
was  an  Irishman  named  Pat  Prunty,  who  had 
given  out  that  he  was  at  one  time  a  section  fore- 
man on  an  eastern  raidroad  and  was  accordingly 
looked  upon  with  some  degree  of  wonder  by 
those  who  had  never  seen  a  railroad.  This  man 
was  sent  for  by  Bill  Green  and  when  he  arrived 
he  was  asked  to  tell  all  he  knew  about  a  railroad. 

The  ex-section  foreman  explained  about  sur- 
veying and  grading  road-beds,  and  the  use  of  the 
transit  and  levels,  which  of  course  could  not  be 
had  in  Walla  Walla.  But  Bill  Green,  having 
learned  what  was  required  and  that  ten  degree 
curves  and  two  per  cent  grades  should  be  the 
maximum,  readily  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
work.  He  ascertained  that  ten  degrees  was  a 
bend  of  ten  inches  from  a  straight  line  in  sixty- 
six  and  six-tenths  feet,  that  a  two  per  cent  grade 
was  a  rise  of  105  feet  in  a  mile.  The  rest  was 
easy  for  this  resourceful  westerner. 

Mounted  on  mules  and  accompanied  by  two 
assistants  provided  with  axes,  tape  line  and  a 
whiskey  flask  half  filled  with  water,  to  be  used 
as  a  lock  level  by  sighting  across  the  surface  of 
the  water  in  the  flask  held  horizontal,  the  road 

—32— 


THE  CHIEF  ENGINEER 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

was  surveyed  and  the  grade  stakes  set  by  these 
mule-back  engineers,  from  terminus  to  terminus, 
in  six  days,  instead  of  six  months,  to  the  intense 
satisfaction  of  Doc  Baker.  What  is  more,  in  after 
years  when  the  road  was  succesfully  operated  as 
a  part  of  a  great  railway,  no  fault  was  found  with 
the  mule-back  survey. 

The  work  of  grading  proceeded  with  equal 
rapidity.  Bill  Green  used  twenty  yoke  of  oxen — 
forty  great  animals  of  immense  power,  hitching 
them  to  a  grader  constructed  by  himself.  On 
each  side  of  the  grader  was  a  mule  team  hitched 
to  a  boom.  The  drivers  of  the  mules  kept  the 
grader  in  position  by  pulling  on  it  diagonally 
with  the  mule  teams.  There  was  an  ox  driver 
with  a  goad  stick  for  every  four  yoke  of  oxen. 

Mounted  on  his  mule  and  carrying  an  enor- 
mous black-snake  whip,  the  chief  engineer  gal- 
loped down  the  long  line  of  oxen  and  started  up 
the  leaders  first,  to  take  up  the  slack  in  the  drag 
chain,  which  was  larger  in  size  successively  be- 
tween each  yoke  from  the  front  to  the  rear.  Then 
galloping  along  the  far-flung  length  of  this  tre- 
mendous team,  the  versatile  chief  engineer  sent 
out  a  running  fire  of  concussions  from  the  black- 

—34— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

snake  whip,  which  sounded  like  a  battle  of  six- 
pounders,  and  the  mighty  team  bent  their  necks 
to  the  yokes  and  the  great  steel  blades  of  the 
grader,  guided  by  the  two  mule  teams,  bit  into 
the  soft  earth  and  traveled  slowly  but  steadily 
from  Walla  Walla  to  Wallula  and  the  grading 
was  done  and  the  roadbed  ready  for  the  ties. 

Meantime  many  hewers  on  the  mountains 
and  in  the  quarries  had  been  squaring  stones  and 
felling  timbers  which  were  brought  to  the  grad- 
ed roadway  and  worked  into  the  culverts,  and 
used  for  ties  and  wooden  rails  as  planned  by  Doc 
Baker. 

The  ties  were  laid,  and  the  heavy  wooden 
stringers  to  take  the  place  of  iron  rails  were  laid 
transversely  upon  them.  Only  the  stringers  ov 
one  side  of  the  track  were  spiked  down  to  the 
ties.  Those  on  the  other  side  could  not  be  spik- 
ed because  there  was  no  way  of  telling  what  the 
gauge  of  the  locomotives  would  be.  There  was 
no  telegraph  line  and  the  mail  could  not  travel 
any  faster  around  Cape  Horn  than  the  locomo- 
tives themselves. 

Everything  was  completed  for  the  thirty 
miles  between  Walla  Walla  and  Wallula  except 
spiking  the  one  rail. 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  INDIAN  MESSENGERS. 

Two  years  after  the  time  when  this  story 
begins,  the  high-prowed  canoe,  covered  with 
quaint  red  and  green  designs,  glided  smoothly  on 
the  long  journey  from  Portland  to  Walla  Walla. 
Sapolil  and  Seekolicks  were  its  boatmen,  as  of 
yore.  No  one  else  was  with  them,  and  yet  the 
painted  canoe  carried  a  treasure  which  they  re- 
garded with  superstitious  awe. 

They  had  been  sent  to  Portland  by  Doc  Bak- 
er and  directed  to  call  at  Ladd's  bank  for  a  mes- 
sage from  Mr.  Ladd  and  when  it  was  re- 
ceived they  were  to  bring  it  to  Walla 
Walla.  They  had  waited  at  Portland  months 
for  the  message,  but  at  last  Mr.  Ladd 
called  them  into  the  bank  and  handed  them  a 
straight  stick  cut  from  the  shrub  called  Indian's- 
arrow,  and  told  them  to  take  it  to  Doc  Baker. 
There  was  no  writing  or  other  message  what- 
ever and  no  markings  upon  the  stick.  The  In- 
dians looked  upon  the  strange  message  with 
wonder  not  unmixed  with  superstition.  A  plain 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

stick  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  sent  such  a 
distance  must  be  "hyas  close"  medicine.  They 
showed  the  stick  to  the  many  tribes  along  the 
shore  on  their  way  up  the  stream  and  its  fame 
spread  along  each  bank  of  the  Columbia.  At  the 
big  village  of  Wish-ram  it  was  taken  into  the 
council  tent  where  a  "skookum  wawa"  (big  talk) 
was  held,  and  the  more  fearful  ones  proposed  its 
destruction,  but  Sapolil  said  it  was  "close"  (big) 
medicine  and  if  destroyed  Sachem  Ladd  and  Sa- 
chem Baker  would  know  instantly  and  would 
call  down  trouble  on  the  river  tribes  the  same  as 
the  white  man  had  done  a  few  years  before, 
whose  wife  and  child  had  been  slain  by  the  cut- 
throats of  Wish-ram  while  he  was  absent  from 
his  cabin  in  the  mountains.  Later  he  entered 
Wish-ram  trembling  with  weakness  and  with  the 
shadow  of  death  upon  his  face,  holding  up  his 
hands  as  a  token  that  he  had  come  in  peace. 
The  murderers  were  uneasy,  but  finally  smoked 
the  pipe  of  peace  with  the  sick  man,  and  then  he 
arose  unsteadily  to  his  feet  and  cursed  Wish-ram 
and  all  its  people,  and  said  that  the  great 
"Kaquilla  Tyee  (Devil)  would  sweep  the  black 
"memaloose"  (death)  through  all  their  tribes. 

—37— 


276485 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

Then  the  white  man  frothed  at  the  mouth 
with  a  horrible  disease  which  had  pitted  his  face 
in  holes,  and  fell  sprawling,  in  the  council  circle, 
dead.  But  the  "memaloose"  he  had  foretold 
swept  over  the  village  and  pitted  their  faces,  and 
the  redmen  died  so  fast  there  was  none  to  burry 
them. 

So  the  bandits  of  Wish-ram,  who  lived  by 
pillaging  those  who  journeyed  up  and  down  the 
river,  did  not  destroy  the  mystic  stick  for  fear 
of  the  power  of  the  "skookum"  White  Medicine 
Men  and  finally  it  was  delivered  by  the  Indian 
messengers  to  Doc  Baker  at  Walla  Walla. 

He  instantly  understood  the  message,  which 
meant  that  the  sailing  ship  had  arrived  around 
the  Horn  from  New  York,  and,  swinging  its 
tackle  far  out,  had  dropped  the  two  locomotives 
on  the  bank  of  the  Willamette  at  Portland,  and 
that  the  gauge  of  the  locomotives  was  the  length 
of  the  stick. 

Handing  the  stick  to  the  Chief  Engineer, 
who  immediately  started  his  gangs  to  work  spik- 
ing down  the  loose  wooden  rail  the  whole  length 
of  the  road,  Doc  Baker  started  for  Portland. 

The  question  of  bringing  the  locomotives 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

and  equipment  up  the  Columbia  was  one  of  great 
moment  not  unmixed  with  danger.  The  red  rob- 
bers of  Wish-ram,  if  they  permitted  the  locomo- 
tives to  pass  around  the  rapids  at  all,  would  ex- 
act enormous  tribute,  or  there  would  be  a  great 
battle  which  would  gradually  extend  to  the 
neighboring  tribes  and  the  result  might  be  the 
complete  annihilation  of  the  whites,  who  in  the 
whole  northwest  were  at  that  time  greatly  out- 
numbered by  the  Indians. 

When  the  barges  containing  the  twro 
locomotives,  one  hundred  pairs  of  car  wheels 
and  the  thousand  plug  hats  arrived  at 
the  rapids  of  Wish-ram  the  wisdom  of  Doc 
Baker  shone  out  anew.  The  resplendent  breeches 
of  Seekolicks,  though  with  luster  now  slightly 
impaired  by  coatings  of  salmon  scales,  still  con- 
tinued to  attract  the  admiring  glances  of  Wish- 
ram  maidens,  to  the  intense  disgust  of  all  the 
other  bucks  who  from  necessity  were  with- 
out breeches.  This  general  feeling  was,  one 
might  say,  openly  and  nakedly  displayed  with- 
out attempt  at  concealment.  Doc  Baker  had 
studied  this  situation  from  the  first  and  now  de- 
cided to  profit  by  working  with,  instead  of 

—39— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

against,  human  passions  and  desires.  He  called 
a  council  of  the  head  villians  of  Wish-ram  and 
with  the  astuteness  of  an  oriental  peddler  in  the 
ancient  city  of  Bagdad,  displayed  for  the  first 
time  to  the  astonished  gaze  of  the  assembled 
robbers  the  wonders  of  a  dress  silk  hat,  and  with 
consummate  cunning  bargained  at  the  price  of 
one  stove-pipe  for  each  of  the  doughty  warriors 
of  Wish-ram,  not  only  for  free  passage  of  the 
locomotives,  but  for  the  combined  power  of  a 
thousand  naked  but  plug-hatted  villians  to  drag 
the  locomotives  around  the  rapids. 


What  boots  it  now  that  Seekolicks'  breeches 
displayed  the  glories  of  a  sunset  (apologies  to  the 
Pacific  Monthly)  ?  For  influence  with  an  Indian 
maiden  a  shiny  plug  hat  will  do  more  than  a 
thousand  dollars  in  stock  of  the  Standard  Oil 
Company,  and  Seekolicks'  breeches  fell  behind 
m  the  mad  race  of  changing  fashions  along  the 
river. 

—40— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

At  last  the  locomotives  and  one  hundred 
pairs  of  car  wheels  reached  Wallula,  where  Bill 
Green  had  built  an  incline  running  down  to  the 
water  in  order  to  bring  them  up  to  the  roadway. 

This  he  did  without  difficulty  by  hitching  his 
great  team  of  forty  oxen  to  each  locomotive  in 
turn.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  this  team  of  oxen 
could  pull  as  much  as  either  locomotive,  though 
not  so  rapidly,  perhaps. 

When  the  locomotives  were  at  last  on  the 
main  line  the  names  "Loco  Ladd"  and  "Loco 
Blue  Mountain"  were  painted  on  their  cab  panels. 
Thus  Doc  Baker  honored  the  two  greatest  ob- 
jects, to  him,  in  the  world.  The  road  was  ready 
for  service,  the  cars  having  been  previously  con- 
structed entirely  of  wood  and  the  car  wheels 
brought  from  New  York  had  been  placed  under 
them. 

The  chief  engineer  had  conducted  all  these 
operations  from  the  saddle  of  his  mule.  He  gal- 
loped back  from  the  leading  yoke  of  the  forty-ox 
team,  to  where  Doc  Baker  stood  near  the  loco- 
motives, now  on  the  main  line,  and  solemnly  an- 
nounced to  his  chief  that  the  road  was  ready  for 
business.  Then  turning  to  the  train  dispatcher, 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

also  mounted  on  a  long-legged  mule  with  two 
big  horse  pistols  hanging  low  on  his  hips,  the 
chief  engineer  formally  turned  over  the  complet- 
ed railroad  from  the  Construction  to  the  Operat- 
ing Department  in  these  terse  terms:  "Their 
vour'n.  Get  to  hell  out  o'  here  with  'em." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  TRAIN  DISPATCHER. 

Mindful  of  Mr.  Ladd's  suggestions,  Doc 
Baker  had  selected  a  train  dispatcher  to  conduct 
transportation  on  the  railroad. 

The  train  dispatcher  had  charge  of  the  move- 
ment of  trains,  therefore  he  must  be  a  man  of 
quick  action.  His  selection  was  a  problem.  But 
Doc  Baker's  resourcefulness  was  a  match  for  all 
exigencies.  His  mind  at  once  settled  on  Josh 
Moore  as  the  very  man  for  the  place. 

Josh  could  ride  the  worst  bucking  cayuse  on 
the  range,  which  showed  his  ability  to  hanri' 
way  freight  crews.  A  particularly  bad  cayuse 
that  had  defeated  all  others  was  assigned  him  to 
break.  After  the  usual  preliminaries,  the  horse, 
standing  first  on  his  head  and  then  on  his  hind 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

feet  rolled  over,  but  when  the  cayuse  was  on  his 
back  Josh  was  still  astride  the  animal's  belly, 
and  when  the  cayuse  arose  to  all  fours 
cigain,  he  found  the  rider  still  on  his  back.  Then 
as  a  last  resort  the  cayuse  took  the  bit  and  bolt- 
ed for  the  low  limb  of  a  spreading  oak  tree  to 
scrape  Josh  off,  but  the  latter  merely  rose  to  his 
ieet  on  the  animal's  back,  vaulted  over  the  limb 
and  landed  astride  of  the  cayuse  on  the  other  side. 
The  cayuse  was  vanquished,  but  Josh  had  lost 
his  boots. 

Many  stories  are  told  of  Josh's  familiarity 
with  the  Henry  rifle.  It  is  said  that  an  Indian 
once  stole  his  horse  and  outfit  and  before  Josh 
could  get  to  his  gun,  galloped  out  of  sight  around 
the  south  side  of  a  hill.  Without  waiting  an  in- 
stant Josh  swung  the  gun  to  his  shoulder  and 
sighting  a  rock  wall  on  a  detached  peak  to  the 
north  of  the  hill,  fired.  The  bullet  caromed  on 
the  rock  wall  and  passing  behind  the  hill  brought 
down  the  fleeing  Indian.  This  showed  keen  abil- 
ity to  make  good  meeting  points  without  loss  of 
time  to  either  of  the  moving  objects. 

The  ability  to  make  meeting  points  and  to 
withstand  the  bucking  of  the  local  freight  crews 

_43— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

being  the  principal  qualifications  of  a  train  dis- 
patcher as  laid  down  by  the  philosophy  of  Pat 
Prunty,  Josh  Moore  was  inducted  into  the  office. 
The  chief  engineer  and  train  dispatcher  com- 
prised all  the  officers  of  the  road.  The  train  dis- 
patcher hired  a  discharged  fireman  and  a  deck- 
hand from  a  river  boat  at  Portland  and  they 
were  put  in  charge  of  the  locomotives  as  engin- 
eers at  salaries  of  $50.00  per  month  each.  Then 
he  hired  two  cowboys  off  the  range  for  firemen 
at  $75.00  each,  reasoning  that  the  firemens'  work 
was  harder  that  the  engineers'.  Telegraph  sys- 
tems were  not  to  be  thought  of,  but  Josh  Moore 
was  mounted  on  a  swift  mule  and  equipped  with 
two  horse  pistols  (which  he  said  had  been  raised 
from  Colt's)  and  by  a  code  of  signals  comprising 
pistol  shots  he  galloped  from  one  train  to  the 
other  and  gave  his  orders  in  such  a  manner  that 
the  crews  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  them 
through  their  heads  without  back  talk  which 
train  dispatchers  meet  with  nowadays. 

Doubtless  many  a  train  dispatcher,  housed 
at  a  big  terminal,  who  may  read  this  account  of 
primitive  railroading  will  long  for  the  simple  but 
effective  methods  of  Josh  Moore. 


THE  TRAIN  DISPATCHER 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

But  the  most  intensely  practical  side  of  the 
train  dispatcher  was  perhaps  best  illustrated  in 
his  conception  of  the  locomotive  pilots  some- 
times called  "cowcatchers."  When  the  locomo- 
tives first  arrived  at  Wallula  the  train  dispatcher, 
taking  Pat  Prunty  the  source  of  all  railroad  wis- 
dom, along  with  him,  proceeded  to  look  them 
over.  He  inquired  of  Prunty  the  purpose  of  the 
"V"  shaped  combination  of  slats  on  the  front 
ends  of  the  locomotives.  Prunty  explained  that 
these  were  called  "cowcatchers"  and  were  to 
clear  the  track  of  cattle.  The  train  dispatcher  re- 
marked that  the  bunch  of  corset  staves  might  be 
serviceable  for  catching  cows  in  the  City  of  New 
York,  but  in  the  great  west  cows  were  harder 
to  catch  and  more  dangerous  when  caught.  His 
authority  in  reality  being  as  absolute  as  the  coun- 
try operator  thinks  the  authority  of  the  average 
dispatcher  is  today,  he  ordered  the  pilots  ripped 
off  the  two  locomotives  and  low  platforms  built 
in  their  stead.  On  each  of  these  platforms  he 
stationed  one  of  his  best  hunting  dogs  which  he 
quickly  trained,  when  cattle  on  the  tracks  were 
approached,  to  leap  to  the  ground  and  drive  them 
away.  The  dogs  at  once  grasped  the  responsibili- 

—46— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

ty  of  their  important  railroad  positions  and  thirty 
minutes  before  departure  of  each  train  from  their 
respective  terminals  at  Walla  Walla  and  Wallula, 
without  the  service  of  the  caller,  they  took  their 
positions  on  their  locomotive  platforms  and,  like 
the  great  figure  heads  on  the  ship  prows  of  the 
conquering  Vikings,  they  piloted  the  trains 
across  the  Walla  Walla  valley  faithful  to  their 
duties  as  "cowcatchers"  in  fact  as  well  as  in 
name. 

The  Rawhide  Railroad,  though  operating  in 
a  cattle  country,  under  the  wise  direction  of  Bill 
Green  and  Josh  Moore  paid  fewer  claims  for 
cattle  killed  according  to  its  size  than  any  other 
railroad  in  the  world. 

Nor  did  the  two  "cowcatchers,"  'Tonto" 
and  "Thor"  ever  "bark"  on  account  of  their  over- 
time being  short  on  payday.  They  were  watch- 
ful of  other  things  besides  six  o'clock  and  the 
pay  car. 

After  taking  formal  charge  of  the  road  at 
Wallula,  Josh  Moore  ordered  the  engines  fired  up 
with  wood  and  the  run  made  to  Walla  Walla. 
After  the  fires  had  been  burning  in  the  boxes  for 
a  time  something  let  go  on  one  of  the  engines 
with  such  a  terrific  crash  that  the  assembled  cow- 

—48— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

boys  galloped  frantically  across  the  prairie  to  a 
place  of  safety  and  the  thousand  naked  plug'hat- 
ted  pirates  from  Wish-ram,  thinking  that  the  end 
had  come,  plunged  headlong  over  the  bank  and 
into  the  Columbia's  seething  depths.  Even  the 
chief  engineer  and  train  dispatcher  controll- 
ed themselves  with  difficulty  and  tried  to  look 
as  if  they  had  a  lifelong  familiarity  with  the 
blowing  off  of  safety  valves. 

In  time  the  locomotives  on  wooden  rails 
reached  Walla  Walla  and  were  received  there 
with  the  same  speeches  that  are  always  made  un- 
der such  circumstances. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 

Soon  it  was  found  that  the  gnawing  move- 
ments of  the  tread  and  flanges  of  the  locomotive 
drivers  quickly  wore  off  the  tops  and  edges  of  the 
wooden  rails  making  it  necessary  constantly  to 
renew  them. 

The  pioneer  of  the  Pacific  coast  has  one  fav- 
orite "metal"  on  which  he  relies  to  surmount  all 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

difficulties — the  renowned  rawhide.  He  who  un- 
derstands it  can  accomplish  wonders  with  it.  But 
its  antics  are  strange  to  those  from  eastern  lands, 
unfamiliar  with  its  peculiar  properties. 

The  pioneers  delight  to  tell  of  the  tenderfoot 
who  did  not  know  how  rawhide  would  stretch 


when  wet  and  contract  when  dry.  He  hitched  up 
his  team  with  rawhide  harness  in  .a  rain  storm, 
and  attached  a  drag  chain  to  a  log,  intending  to 
pull  it  to  his  cabin  for  fuel.  Driving  the  team  to 
the  cabin,  he  looked  back  and  saw  that  the  log 
had  not  moved,  the  rain  causing  the  rawhide  har- 
ness to  stretch  all  the  way  to  the  house.  Disgust- 
ed, he  unharnessed  the  horses  and  threw  the  har- 
ness over  a  stump.  The  sun  came  out,  and  con- 
tracting the  harness,  pulled  the  log  up  to  the 
house. 

Possessed  of  enormous  qualities  of  this  dur- 
able material,  Doc  Baker  directed  that  the  wood- 
en rails  be  "plated"  with  rawhide  from  Walla 

—50— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

Walla  to  Wallula.  It  hardened  in  the  summer 
sun  and  made  the  roadway  practical!}  indes- 
tructible. 

In  the  rainy  season  the  rawhide  became  soft 
and  the  road  could  not  be  operated,  but  there 
was  no  occasion  to  operate  it  in  the  winter  time, 
for  the  reason  that  there  was  no  traffic,  and  when 
the  snow  melted  in  the  spring,  the  sun  blazing 
out  over  the  valley  quickly  put  the  rawhide  rail- 
road in  good  condition  and  ready  for  train  ser- 
vice. 

Finally  there  came  a  winter  of  terrible  sever- 
ity on  the  Pacific  coast  which  was  long  spoken 
of  as  the  "hard  winter." 

In  the  empire  of  Walla  Walla  it  did  untold 
damage.  The  snow  fell  very  deep  throughout  the 
land.  With  the  first  rains  and  snows  the  raw- 
hide railroad  ceased  operation. for  the  winter,  ac- 
cording to  its  usual  custom,  as  the  rawhide  had 
become  soft  as  mush. 

Provisions  become  scarce.  Great  hard- 
ships and  suffering  were  experienced.  Cattle 
raisers  were  obliged  to  begin  feeding  their  stock 
earlier  than  usual  and  soon  the  feed  ran  shoi  t. 
In  desperation  they  turned  the  cattle  out  on  the' 

—51— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 


range,  which  was  covered  with  deep  snow.  Bliz- 
zards swept  over  the  prairie  lands  and  many  of 
the  cattle  froze  to  death  standing  erect,  a  grue- 
some sight. 

The  deer  in  the  Blue  Mountains  were  starv- 
ed and  frozen  and  the  wolves  from  the  fastnesses 
of  the  distant  Rockies  on  the  east  and  from  ice- 
bound Canada  on  the  north  swept  over  the  coun- 
try, devouring  the  carcasses  of  the  frozen  deer 
and  after  these  were  all  gone,  forced  on  by  fam- 
ishing hunger,  and  growing  bolder  as  the  win- 
ter became  more  and  more  severe,  they  crept  out 
over  the  great  valley  of  Walla  Walla  in  search 
of  food. 

Driven  at  last  in  desperation,  to  sustain  their 
lives,  the  red-throated,  ravening  monsters,  run- 
ning in  great  packs,  crowded  on  and  on  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  village  of  Walla  Walla,  search- 
ing for  carcasses  of  frozen  cattle  which  they  paw- 
ed out  of  the  snow  and  quickly  devuored. 

The  beleaguered  village  now  felt  that  it  was 
only  a  question  of  days,  perhaps  hours,  if  the 


—52— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

storm  did  not  break,  when  they  would  have  to 
fight  the  oncoming  horde  of  famished  fiends  to 
preserve  their  very  lives.    And  everyone  was  piv 
pared  for  the  final  conflict. 

One  night,  late  in  midwinter,  the  blizzard 
was  roaring  and  howling  across  the  prairie  and 
*now  was  Calling  in  long  slanting  sheets,  when 
a  trv/nendaous  disturbance  was  made  at  the  door 
of  Doc  Baker's  home. 

Grabbing  up  a  loaded  pistol,  the  doctor  ran 
to  the  door,  fearing  the  last  stand  against  the 
wolves  was  at  hand.  Opening  the  door  cautious- 
ly, he  saw  outside  the  two  faithful  Indians,  Sapo- 
lil  and  Sekolicks,  seeking  admission.  They  hurl- 
ed their  shivering  bodies  through  the  doorway 
and  began  in  a  mixture  of  English  and  Chinook. 
a  wild  effort  to  communicate  some  disastrous  in- 
telligence to  their  friend,  Doc  Baker. 

Their  excitement  was  so  great  that  the  only 
word  the  doctor  could  catch  in  the  first  rush  of 
their  attempt  to  talk,  was  "wolves." 

Without  waiting  for  more,  the  doctor  called 
to  all  the  men  of  the  household  to  arm  themselves 
quickly  and  prepare  for  a  fight  against  the  com- 
ing onslaught  of  the  wolves.  Then  turning  to  his 

—53— 


THE     RAWHIDE     RAILROAD 

sideboard  he  poured  a  good  big  drink  of  strong 
wkiskey  for  each  of  the  Indians,  now  trembling 
with  cold  and  excitement.  This  disposed  of,  he 
pushed  them  down  by  the  roaring  fire-place  and 
forced  them  to  deliver  their  message  slowly  and 
in  a  manner  that  could  be  understood. 

In  broken  English,  interwoven  with  Chin- 
ook, Sapolil  finally  succeeded  in  disclosing  the 
terrible  information,  which  ran  as  follows : 

"Railroad — him  gonum  hell.  Damn  wolves 
"digum  out — eatum  all  up — Wallula  to  Walla 
"Walla." 

THE  END. 


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